Damned if You Do
by ladylace616
Summary: [Written pre-season 3] Hate to let John and Daya's relationship end the way it did. . . so in this fic they consider each other and the future consequences of their actions as Daya works through her infidelity with Pornstache to see if their relationship will endure. Romance.


_A/N: Disclaimer- I do not own the characters or storyline of this story and do not profit from this story in any way. The content within is inspired by Jenji Kohan and Piper Kerman. That being said, I absolutely love John and Daya and this story was written before season 3 aired (when there was still hope *sniffle*) Season 3 had me crying over their relationship's demise, and even though this piece isn't quite complete, I wanted to put my first_ _ **Orange is the New Black**_ _piece out there finally! Any reviews or constructive criticism are certainly welcome!_

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Dayanara was mostly just a lost and misguided girl. She may have had experience looking after her younger siblings for years, but nothing prepared her for the sentence and the impact it had when Red leaned across the table and vehemently claimed, "Every decision from here on out is for your family, welcome to Motherhood." It had felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped on her then and she felt anguished, that _this_ was her life now. The thought of taking one for the team for Pornstache was unbearable, especially with the love glowing in her heart over John.

John. What would he say? Dayanara was none too bright and felt pressured to cooperate with the plan her mother and Red had devised. She wanted to help the other inmates and clear John's name in one fell swoop, but would her love consider infidelity on her part _worth_ not winding up in prison? Dayanara mentally scoffed at the idea, as though anyone wouldn't do whatever it took to keep themselves out of prison. She lay in bed that sleepless night, her hand absent mindedly protecting her tummy already, as she stared up at the ceiling and other girls cat called between the bunks. There were too many thoughts tangled in her young mind as she despaired over the fate of her love.

Funnily enough, she had thought little of the baby beyond the fact that her mother was right. Her baby could grow to be something in this big, stupid world and some day, when she got out, she and John could be together and they would live in a drug-free house someplace white folks lived, respectable people like her sweet, doe-eyed John and he would take care of her and the baby. In an unexpected rush, suddenly Daya was more sure than ever that that was exactly what she wanted. She could see them, John and her and a baby daughter. She imagined John holding and smiling at a squirming bundle of pink in his arms, herself lovingly latched to John's shoulder in new jewelry, signifying their success. Their little family looked utterly happy, and for months, this is a picture she would often times visit in her times of woe. It was naive and full of innocence, precious in a way that no one could sully or take away from her, the dream of their perfect family.

All she knew is that she loved John, and it was wrong to try and kill their baby, even if she wasn't ready. She was scared about what Red had said, about the baby getting her thrown into SHU or maximum security, but it was too late to change her mind anyhow. Daya looked down at her flabby stomach and thought curiously about the life growing inside her, wondering how long she would have until she started to show. She could have been mad at John for getting her pregnant, maybe not pulling out fast enough did the job, but then she would have to accept that she was the one who spread her legs in the first place. It was just as much her fault, and she owned that fact.

Aleida had once admonished her for her taste in men, but the truth was, Daya liked virtually any man that admired her and paid her mind. She had slept with Cesar because her mother seemed to think his thing was so good, and it was out of spite. Spite raised up out of her as she sat across from her mother at the table in the visitation room that shitty day. When she got home that night, it struck in a slither quick snake's tongue as she started kissing her mother's boyfriend.

The simple fact was that Daya slept with men because she could. She used her feminine wiles when she was able because it made her feel powerful. Some may have called her thick, but what they didn't know is that she had the softest skin and curves that drove men wild. Daya _was_ beautiful. Her lips were full, and any man around could vouch for what a pleasant cupfull of ass she afforded. She was sassy, the type of girl who blew her dark bangs out of her face out of dark lipsticked mouth or else below elaborately decorated eyelids. She read fashion magazines and ate junk food and slept with men that found her attractive. Where indeed did the "virtue" lie in being hard to get? She liked to play the same game men did, always ending up with a different kind of man at the end of the night. So really, Aledia had not been far off with her disrespectful remark, "You're good at getting guys to sleep with you, eh?"

These thoughts troubled her long into the night. 

The next day, Daya managed to sneak away from the Spanish harlem and went to the Tobacco Shack and prayed that Aleida wouldn't notice her absence. She had a light grey jacket on and her dark curls spilled out over the tan khakis she wore. She was momentarily glad to feel the sun on her face and then found herself reaching for the empty styrofoam cup in their shack to see if her lover had left her a note. She frowned when she found nothing and wished she had a piece of gum or anything else to chew on besides her worried bottom lip.

Perhaps John wouldn't come at all, and he really did regret getting himself into such a mess. She was a mess, what had she thought she'd been doing by getting Pornstache involved in everything? The way John talked about his colleague _George_ , Daya felt a pang of guilt that the man should feel _anything_ towards her. Their encounter had not been romantic in the least and she had hated doing it with a man like him, letting him touch her. She kept arguing that point because she needed John to know that. "I love you, _not_ him."

"You have a funny way of showing that," he barked at her. His eyes had never looked so dark before, as if holding back a violence within, and she was scared out of her wits for both their sake. She didn't want her baby to go to jail for the consenual acts they'd performed together. Daya was just plain irresistable, what could she say? She had enticed the correctional officer into a fraternization and serious offence for the young, cock strong idiot. In truth, he did hate himself for being so arrogant. What did he think, believing he could buck the system with a mighty romp and fuck with a curavicous, sweet young thing that kept giving him the eyes? How was he supposed to ignore a woman so tempting and sensual it made his pants tight even thinking about her?

He felt helpless in the situation because Daya had stupidly acted alone on their behalf. Part of him couldn't help wondering why the hell Mendez's dick had any fucking business being even remotely near his woman?! He felt revulsion when he looked at **the** **inmate** , as he had taken to referring to her in his head when he could. Everytime he thought the cold, impersonal word meant to dehuminize and strip her of her rights, instead all he remembered was the feel of her warm mouth, kneeling before him pleasuring him as his hands curled in her hair and urged her on with grunts and thrustings of his own. He remembered kissing her afterward and muttering her name into the hollows of her clavicles as they sweatily embraced in the afterglow. He couldn't bear to regard her so coldly, even when she had wronged him as badly as she had. He still loved her. He hated what she'd done, but could understand her confusion and misdirection. After all, it was saving his ass in a very wrong, unethical way. Still, he wished she'd at least run her crazy scheme by him before she'd made the decision to bring their world to an even more fucked up degree, and fucked another man.

John had not been thinking when he pursued things with the incarcirated girl, or if he had, it had been entirely with his little head. And yes, perhaps a little bit of his heart. He had reacted chemically to Daya from the start, his eyes catching on the planes of her face and the shape of her lips and hips, standing out amongst all the other girls. When he troubled himself enough to get closer to her, her sweet nature and drawings caught him by pleasant surprise and he found himself craving more. When he saw her body the time she got trapped by her necklace, his feet were carrying him towards her before he even conciously decided he was going that direction. His body knew instinctively that she had hemmed herself up on purpose to draw him near and like a siren on the rocks, he could not help but come hither.

What was a man, doomed from the first glance, supposed to do?


End file.
